


Morning Rituals

by AyuOhseki



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Bad Puns, Brotherly Love, Depression, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 21:45:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5556602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AyuOhseki/pseuds/AyuOhseki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sans is not a fan of mornings or resets. A one-shot on what it takes for him to leave the house at the start of a timeline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning Rituals

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Azure for proofreading this for me! This one's for you.

The morning after a reset is always the worst. Sans is left with nothing but the lingering feeling that he’s lost something important and the occasional scribble or keepsake from his previous self. He usually has trouble getting up in the morning, but when he wakes up with that phantom limb feeling, he just wants to roll over and sleep the rest of the timeline away.

He doesn’t. Not because of anything _he_ does, but because Papyrus always knocks on his door at precisely 7 AM--

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK._

\--and insists he start getting ready for the day.

“SANS!!” his brother shouts on the other side of the door. “You lazybones, it’s already light out!! You need to come eat breakfast and get to work!!!”

Papyrus hardly ever sleeps, so it’s actually pretty handy. Sans doesn’t know what he’d do without him.

“Coming,” he calls, though it’s muffled because Sans still has his face half-buried in his pillow.

“I’m not coming by again!!” Papyrus warns him. He will; Sans knows he will. Even so, Sans counts his footfalls on the stairs until he knows he’s downstairs. Sans also knows that Papyrus is making them a breakfast of spaghetti.

Kind of another reason to stay in bed, if he’s being honest. Sans is proud of the progress his brother’s made in the culinary arts, but, well, his stomach is less of a fan. He wonders briefly how many timelines there have been where his brother got good enough to make something edible. It’s depressing to think about.

He rolls out of bed, literally. His “bed” is really just a mattress with a pillow and blanket thrown on top. Papyrus nags at him to at least put sheets on, and to be fair he used to have some (they now exist in a large, greasy ball that he shoves onto the mattress when it’s not in use), but that’s just too much effort. It’s not that comfortable, but Sans is used to it. Really, once you’re used to something, you can put up with anything. The floor is yet more uncomfortable, though, and after several minutes of groaning and grumbling indistinctly, Sans manages to drag himself mostly upright.

There’s a pad of paper on his desk. Sans opens the blinds and squints against the pale light at the pad. It’s his notes, which he’s been able to bring back with him from timeline to timeline, even if the rest of his memories don’t make it. Pretty handy, actually, although not too much ever makes it. It’s nothing more than the occasional hint, but hints stack up over time... and over reset. Sans makes a point to not count how many pages he’s gone through by now.

On the top page, there’s two words, written in uppercase and underlined:

KING PAPYRUS

“Huh,” Sans utters, squinting at his handwriting. “So he took the throne? That’s cool. You always could count on Papyrus, _reign_ or shine, heh heh.”

But then he has to think through the implications. If Papyrus is on the throne--Papyrus, who’s currently just in training for the royal guard--that means at the very least, Asgore is dead. The Queen is either dead or never returned from wherever she went to. Undyne’s gotta be dead; she’d otherwise be the natural pick for a new leader without the royal family. And Mettaton’s probably been trashed too; Papyrus is a great guy and he’d do his best for monsterkind, no question, but Mettaton has brand name recognition. Alphys _might_ be alive, as she’s not exactly leadership material, but the odds are real bad if Undyne and Mettaton are both gone. In short, for Papyrus to be made king, literally every other important figure in the kingdom would have to be dead or missing.

It kind of spoils the mental image of Papyrus wearing a crown and chuckling “nyeh heh heh!!!” to himself, especially given the toll that position would take on his brother.

Sans flips back through the rest of his interdimensional time-traveling notes. “beware of flower,” “watch out for the kid,” “it’s not just the kid,” “tell them papyrus is harmless,” “annoying dog takes over”...? God, he wishes his other selves could be bothered to make their notes clearer. Some of these things make no sense at all. Is he telling himself to watch out for a kid, as in look after them and take care of them, or is he telling himself to _watch out_ for a kid, as in be wary and on his guard? One of these days he’s going to have to clarify that.

But not today, because oh boy, he sure is not feeling it.

When he’s done reading, he leans back on the desk. He has... maybe a couple clean things left to wear. None of them are socks, but who cares about socks? It’s easier just to tell Papyrus that he started a collection than to clean literally the most useless piece of clothing to ever exist. Papyrus keeps nagging at him to do his laundry, but that’s one good thing about the resets: he’ll literally never have to do laundry again because by the time his clothes get rank enough to really, _really_ need it, it’ll all end. Sans likes to think positive at times like these.

“SANS!!! YOUR SPAGHETTI IS GETTING COLD!!!!” Papyrus hollers from downstairs.

“Chill out, bro,” Sans comments to the air, grinning at his own joke. Still, it’s a cue. He rolls until he hits the wall, then drags himself upright. Once he’s actually on his feet, he changes his mind about the clothes. It’d be a whole lot easier to just throw a hoodie jacket on over what he slept in and call it a day.

That’s exactly what he does, too, and once he puts on a pair of slippers, he shuffles downstairs (his door auto-locks behind him; kudos to Past Him for actually taking the time to set that up) to join Papyrus at the dining table. Papyrus has already largely finished his meal.

“Sans!!! You took all that time and you didn’t even get dressed?!!”

“I’m dressed. Look at me wearing all this clothing,” Sans replies, stifling a yawn. “Hey, this pasta looks good. You just crack this out of the oak cask?”

Papyrus perks up. “Oh, you noticed??? As a matter of fact, I had these noodles aging for--hey, wait a minute!!! Don’t change the subject on me!!!”

“Sorry, bro, just, this pasta looks so good,” Sans replies, digging in. It tastes like styrofoam. It possibly _is_ styrofoam. He keeps digging in. There are some pleasures in life that go beyond mere taste. “‘houldn’t ‘oo ‘ee on ‘a’hrol ‘y ‘ow?”

“Sans, don’t talk with your mouth full!!!” Papyrus chides him, before brightening. “Though I suppose I can’t fault you for wanting to savor the exquisite flavor of my masterful cooking!” He squints and glances to one side. “Through... a mostly incoherent question.”

Sans swallows. “I said, shouldn’t you be on patrol by now?”

“I’ve _been_ on patrol! I came back to check to see if you were up and you weren’t!!” Papyrus replies. “It’s very important you attend your station!! How are we ever going to capture a human otherwise??”

Sans chews on this. “Well, bro,” he replies, “I got a feeling like your lucky day is coming up soon.”

“Really?? Wowie!!” Papyrus draws up to his full height. Somehow, his scarf flaps in the wind, despite the two of them being indoors. “Of course, every day is a lucky day for the great Papyrus!! But it sure would be super if a human showed up soon.”

“Yeah,” says Sans, thinking of his notepad. “Sure would.”

“By the way, Sans, what do you think of today’s spaghetti??” Papyrus asks eagerly. “Please, spare no detail!!”

“It’s great, bro.” Sans takes another hearty bite of his brother’s home-cooking. “Best pasta you’ve ever made, and no lie.”

Papyrus beams at him, and really, that’s the best spice of all. When Sans manages to finish shoving the rest of breakfast down, he leans back in his chair, eyes half-shut. He’ll have a proper breakfast at Grillby’s after he leaves. If he ever leaves. He should probably take his dishes to the kitchen, just as Papyrus is doing now, but eh. He’ll do it later.

He rolls his head towards the front window. Red and green lights blink cheerily on their place outside. It’d taken Papyrus a while to decorate the whole house, but he was so proud of himself once he was done. Sans hadn’t contributed much, beyond maybe holding the ladder when Papyrus was on the roof. It’s almost a little comforting, knowing that even with a reset, the lights don’t go anywhere. At least that little bit of effort hasn’t gone to waste. Instead, since Sans mostly just loafed around, it’s gone to waist.

...No, even jokes aren’t helping right now, he realizes as he stares out at the snow. All over again. He has to do this _all over again_. Even if he doesn’t know how good being king would’ve been for Papyrus, he’s certain Papyrus would have been good for the kingdom. There’s nobody cooler or harder-working than him, so was there really a need for _another_ reset? What’s the anomaly even want, anyway? They’ve chewed through so many timelines; aren’t they satisfied yet? When _will_ they be satisfied? Will they _ever_ be satisfied? Sans admits--if only to himself--he hopes he can befriend them, but the more timelines pile up, the cheaper hope gets.

He gives serious thought to what it would be like to curl up in bed and not leave it for the rest of the timeline. It’s all going to get reset anyway, so why bother? He could catch up on his reading, check out memes online, troll his brother’s social media account, lie in bed like a piece of garbage, sleep literally forever... Lots of things. It’d be so easy. It’d be _so_ easy.

“Sans?”

Sans blinks up at his brother, who peers down at him with worried eyes. “Sup?”

“Are you all right?” Papyrus asks. “You looked very sad just now.”

Sans scoffs with a wink and a grin. Deflecting is second nature to him. “Who, me? Nah, I’m fine. Just letting breakfast settle.”

“Well... all right. But know this!!!” he declares, thrusting a finger roofwards. “For all your lollygagging about, you are still the brother of the great Papyrus!!! My greatness cannot help but rub off on you! So if you are feeling perhaps a wee tiny bit _not completely happy_ , just think of my glorious magnificence and allow it to propel you to greater heights!!!!”

And the funny thing is, it helps. Sans’s smile turns a little more natural, a lot more affectionate. “Heh. Well, if I _were_ feeling not completely happy, I’m sure that would’ve cheered me right up.”

Papyrus beams at him. “Good!”

Then he leans down and scoops him up in a big hug, and god, it really does cheer him up. Sans clings back like he’s a koala and nearly falls back asleep on the spot, this time because it’s just so comfortable and warm here.

“Also, if you’re worried about how there haven’t been any humans...” Papyrus adds, cuddling him, “fear not!! I admit, I may have been slightly discouraged by the lack of any humans to capture...”

Sans cracks an eye open and looks up at his brother. He catches a flash of the strain in Papyrus’s smile.

“...but your encouragement is all I need to keep going!” he continues, regaining his energy. “So make sure you do your best, Sans!! You might be a jackanaping layabout, but it just won’t be the same if I become a Royal Guard without you there to support me!”

And he means every word. He always does. Papyrus just wouldn’t be Papyrus if he weren’t equal parts sincere and overblown about everything he does.

Man. His brother’s _so_ cool.

“Hey, I’m always doing my best.” He winks. “Eating, sleeping, telling great jokes... I can do it _ulna_.”

“SANS!!!”

He grins at his brother’s aggravation. Yeah. Look at all he’d miss if he went back to bed and never woke up again. “What, you didn’t think that was _humerus_?”

“UGH,” Papyrus snorts, setting him down. “I’m going back on patrol! Don’t forget to recalibrate your puzzles, Sans! It’s already been a week!!”

Not to mention, even Papyrus gets bummed out sometimes. And especially after how the last timeline ended, it’d be nice if Sans could find a way to perk him up. “Yeah, yeah.”

“And as for your station... if you can’t secure the perimeter, then the _radius_ will have to do!!” he crows. “Nyeh heh heh heh heh!!”

Sans laughs, delighted. What was that he thought about how even jokes weren’t helping? Man, his brother really is the coolest. “You got me, bro. See you later.”

Papyrus nyeh-heh-heh!s all the way out the door and down the street into town. Sans smiles, and keeps smiling long after his brother has gone. He heads to the fridge, pulls out a bottle of ketchup he’s been meaning to finish off (the only thing on his side of the fridge besides an empty bag of chips that he’ll probably get around to throwing out one day), and strolls over to the front window. The snow is shining, the birds are singing... It’s a beautiful day outside.

He finishes off his ketchup, leaves the bottle with his plate, then opens the door.

“Welp...” He takes a deep breath and lets it all out. “Time to get to work.”


End file.
